


It Was, In Fact, Me

by fortunatelykeendetective



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Light Smut, M/M, Married Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, No Angst, Sexting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-07
Updated: 2015-12-07
Packaged: 2018-05-05 12:09:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5374718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fortunatelykeendetective/pseuds/fortunatelykeendetective
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John decides to pay Sherlock back for some poorly-timed public flirtation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Was, In Fact, Me

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 25 Days of Fic-mas challenge by hudders-and-hiddles  
> Day 6: Naughty and nice 
> 
> I know married John & Sherlock isn't everyone's thing but I love the idea that they will eventually want to seal their relationship with vows and deal with the same things every other married couple deals with.

15 December, 8.45am  
John Watson has put up with a lot from Sherlock Holmes since they’ve known one another. From body parts in the fridge (and in other parts of the flat) to Sherlock shooting up walls because he’s ‘bored’ to no-pants Buckingham Palace to staring down some of the worst criminals humankind has to offer, John Watson is fairly certain at this point that he has seen and done most everything thanks to the madman he calls his husband currently sound asleep next to him in the bed. This latest incident, however, pissed John off in a way he'd never been pissed off before.  
  
John is usually a pretty sound sleeper these days. Marrying Sherlock is without a doubt the best decision he’s ever made. Thanks to Sherlock, the screaming, bleeding, dying boys - the ones he couldn’t save in Afghanistan - rarely visit him in nightmares anymore.  
  
This Christmas morning is no exception. John awakes from a sound sleep to find his arms and face full of the inexplicably adorable man he married ten years ago. For a moment he considers staying there to enjoy the early-morning glow, warm snuffles, and silky curls of his sleeping husband, but his better judgment wins and he rises.

 _Time to exact a little sweet payback_ , John thinks. _Flirting with me like that in a public place and no way to get off_.

John is still not over the bedroom eyes Sherlock had thrown at him behind Anderson’s back whilst they sorted out a case at the Yard. It had made John all kinds of hard with nowhere to go for his husband to take care of it for him. So he grabs his phone, snaps a few – ahem, selfies ( _is that what the kids call them these days?_ ) – and presets them to be sent to Sherlock's phone at 15-minute intervals. John then sets about tidying up the flat while his husband sleeps.

 

*****  
25 December 11.48am  
_Dear Husband, I presume you are up and about since you are no longer beside me in bed. For the last two hours I’ve been receiving text messages which I can only assume come from you, as no one else would be so bold as to send me pictures of themselves in various stages of undress and visibly aroused_. – SHW

11.58am  
_Dear Husband, Maybe it was me, but there’s only one way for you to know for sure. Come to the sitting room and find me_. - JWH

11.59am  
_Oh, for God’s sake, why can’t you come back to bed instead? I am in quite a state and require your assistance_. – SHW

12.00pm  
_Serves you right. At the risk of repeating myself, there’s only one way to find out for sure if it was me. Come to the sitting room_. – JWH

12.01pm  
_That would require getting out of bed. Tedious_. – SHW

12.05pm  
_I am perhaps the only person in the world more stubborn than you. Now, either you get your arse out of that bed or you can stay in your ‘state’ all day long_. - JWH

 

******  
Within thirty seconds John hears bedsheets rustling and Sherlock’s exquisitely large feet hit the hardwood bedroom floor. It occurs to John in that moment that the old wives’ tale about foot size is verifiably true in Sherlock’s case. The door flies open and Sherlock barges into the sitting room…… _oh_.

Sherlock gets an immediate eyeful of naked, luscious husband sprawled on their sofa.

“So it _was_ you sending me those delightful texts,” Sherlock muses. “Should’ve known. No one else could possibly be so....well endowed.”

“Did you honestly believe anyone else wanted to get you all worked up so you’d come find them and shag their brains out?” whispers John gauzily, doing his best to sound as sexy as he is horny.

 

******  
25 December, 11.57pm

The husbands lie in bed drowsy, both thoroughly spent and satisfied, a mess of arms and legs and sweat and stickiness. Each considers it a delight that they can still enjoy each other in this way so many times in such a short span. It is not something they take for granted. 

John gazes at his husband believing that he’s the luckiest man alive to have landed this incorrigible, vulnerable, beautiful man. Luckier still, John gets to call him ‘husband’ for the rest of their years.

“Two can definitely play the flirty game, you know.”

Sherlock meets his eyes, grateful to whatever powers that may or may not be for throwing this loyal, kind, and stunningly gorgeous fellow into his orbit those many years ago. He realizes that this man is his everything and then some.

“You are a good bit naughty,” Sherlock replies, “but I must say.... that was very, **_very_** nice.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first foray into this kind of fanfic, in case you couldn't tell. This is not really my strong suit. :)


End file.
